


Tension

by WithYouTillTheEndOfTheShield



Series: Stay Frosty [4]
Category: Alien Series, Aliens (1986)
Genre: Gen, Hicks is an asshole, Literally everyone is pissed at each other, No Plot/Plotless, No one is happy with anyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 10:36:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3647142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithYouTillTheEndOfTheShield/pseuds/WithYouTillTheEndOfTheShield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working in close quarters on the Sulaco would drive anyone stir crazy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tension

"Dumbass colonists." Hicks hears as he enters the mess hall. Of course, they're going to _another_ fucking colony planet. Apparently it's some kind of civil war down there, might actually be a stand up fight this time, unlike all the bullshit they've been clawing through for the past few months. He's finding it hard to get exited about though - the last good fight they were promised turned out to be some shitty extraction job. They were done in a matter of hours.

Apone is lighting another cigar, and takes a long drag on it as Hicks takes his seat at the table, beginning to pick at the poor excuse for food. Apone's right about one thing - the Corp is like working on a farm. You get terrible wages, shitty food and undesirable bunkmates, but you aren't tied down to anything. It's the job for the man who has nothing back home. Which suits him _just_ fine.

Frost digs his spoon into whatever disgusting breakfast they've been served up, and tips it, letting the thick, sloppy meal drip back into his bowl. "I don't know how much longer I can put up with this shit."

"Would you cut that out, Frost?" Dietrich snaps from across the table. "I'm trying to eat this."

"Well it ain't Frosty's fault this food tastes like shit." Hudson joined the table, jabbing at the glop with his own spoon and pulling a face. "Looks like shit too."

"Nope, it's puke is what it looks like." Frost comments, dropping his spoon back into the bowl. Dietrich pushes her own tray away from her, scowling at the two men from down the table.

"Fuck you guys."

"Hey, it ain't our fault, Dietrich!" Hudson cries, watching as the woman clambers up from the table and storms out of the mess hall. Apone tells Hudson to stop being such an unbelievable piece of shit and to just eat his breakfast, and he turns back to his tray, his lower lip sticking out ever so slightly. Hicks tells him he looks like a fish, and Hudson throws his toast across the table at him. Apone doesn't even bother to tell them to cut it out.

They're all too strung out, too on edge at this point. They've been working with each other for _too fucking long_ , and it's gotten to the point where Hudson is loudly mentioning how long he's got left on his rotation. Good, Hicks thinks as he goes back to his breakfast. Two fucking months and he'll be done. It'll be quieter when he's gone. Hudson snores. Hicks is a light sleeper.

He's not the only one getting unusually testy. Vasquez is ready to snap at the slightest comment - last week Drake and Apone had to drag her away from Frost, who she had pinned to a wall. She was yelling at him in Spanish, and they didn't need a translator to get her meaning. Ferro keeps throwing that damn tennis ball at the wall at night, and it's gotten to the point where the rest of them are taking turns in hiding it from her. Drake's picking on Hudson more than normal, and Hicks isn't sure how much longer the other guy can put up with the taunting. In all fairness to Drake, half the time Hudson comes out with some dumb shit.

Slowly, the people around the table thin out, and it isn't that long until it's just Hicks and Hudson eating. By now the food's gone cold, and they're both just picking at it for something to do. They aren't getting briefed for half an hour, and neither man wants to go back to the on-ship barracks, where there'll be people and noise. It's quieter in the mess hall. Until Hicks asks Hudson to pull his 'fish face' again, and the other Marine tells him to go fuck himself. He gets up and storms out, leaving his tray. Good. Now it's completely silent.

"I see you and the Private are still getting on well, Corporal."

 _Fucking hell_. Hicks glances down the table. He hadn't even realised Bishop was still here. "Hey, Bishop."

"You sound tired." The android observes, taking a sip of coffee.

"Yeah... Yeah, I am." Hicks admits. Bishop just keeps drinking his coffee, completely passive.

"Perhaps some recreation should be in order when we reach the colony? I've heard the local company is very impressive."

Hicks narrows his eyes, trying to work out if he just got encouraged to have meaningless sex from a robot, while Bishop clears his tray and dusts his hands. "I think you should clear your tray, Corporal. It's getting close to briefing."

Yeah, he's pretty sure Bishop just told him to go get laid.


End file.
